Sacha~ Gone from Russia
by NEGIGHikaruyuy
Summary: I am horrible at these things... um... Sacha needs to hide frome and abussive father figure and decides to do so among the Newsies. Sacha is half Russian and Born in England, can she make it with the Newsies?


Disclaimer I don't own anything or anyone save Sacha, she is my invented char.  
  
Authors notes No romance planned as of yet, Sacha's still so young *sigh*  
  
Sacha, pronounced almost lake Sasha but not so. It's strange but really pretty if you say it right! ^_^  
  
~~Sacha~~  
  
She was a small girl, light in build and very thin. Her hair was the color of dark mud and her gray eyes seemed to speak of some hidden fear. An old woolen hat sat lopsided atop her head, her hair thrown up into it in a poor attempt to look like a boy. Her pale cheeks where smeared with gray dust, as was the bridge of her nose. A dingy gray suit, a mud stained white shirt, along with old black boots that had been the style a few years earlier adorned her petite body giving her the look of a small doll dressed in things far to big. She stood in front of a small diner. This was the place where the Newsies had first begun the movement. But in the weeks that had followed, little had changed. The price of the papers was back to what it had been but she…she still had to work. She was still owned by that fool of a man who called himself her father. She was English, he was American and he to had that vile accent so many in this dirty city have. She called her self Sacha, a boy's name, a Russian name. Her mother had been Russian, a beautiful Russian as far as she could tell from the crinkled photograph in her vest pocket. Perhaps if the Newsies took her in, perhaps if she could hide among them her father would lose her and forget that she ever existed. A grim smile touched the corners of her lips, causing them to twitch. Her hand reached out as she grasped the door handle, her long fingers curling around the cool metal. "Well…" she licked her dry lips, "Here goes nothing…" The door opened smoothly and the little brass bell sung her arrival. She jumped at the sharp tune causing all the young boys in the room to look up at her suddenly. The tall newsman stood by a black board, which had scwralled onto it the news of the paper toting youth. "'Ello…" She said, her voice low and obvious English accent a scream of her alien self. She swallowed, her mouth tightening into a grim line.  
  
"Hi" spoke the news man, his voice not so laden with the rough city accent. "Uh… who are you?"  
  
"Well ain't it obvious!?" Came a barely recognizable version of the American language. Sacha cringed at it. "It's a Newsy from somewheres else!" The speaker grinned. He was young and blue eyed, blond hair slicked back and a sling shot riding in his hip pocket like a gun in a holster. Sacha nodded as if to agree with the rough boys words.  
  
"I don't 'member no girl in the Newsies…s'peacially one so small like. She's just a little mouse!" Came another voice, this speaker she could not see.  
  
Then one stood up, a kind looking young man, a tall one too. His hair was short and black curled tightly around his head. "What right do we have to show this girl prejudice?" This was David she was sure, David and Jack where well known in the factory which she had run from. A moment passed and the boys in the room seemed to be only considering David's well formed words, then another stood. This one seemed to demand all attention and Sacha suddenly felt even smaller than she was. The greatness of this boy meant he could be but one. He was Jack, regal even when clad in dusty rags.  
  
Jack brushed his hair out of his face and tossed her a charming smile, "Awe fella's… leave the 'ittle mouse 'lone. She ain't doin no harm bein around." His words seemed to spark the others; they all nodded and smiled at her. Many shouted out welcomes and most welcomed 'the little mouse' not Sacha.  
  
She looked around nervously, taking seat in a boot next to a small boy she force a half smile at the other boys. They seemed to take this as a thank you for what must have been a warm welcome. Even though Sacha straightened suddenly, tossing her head up and throwing her shoulders back as she moved away from the boy. She was uneasy, and such strict behavior normally kept her out of trouble. Her actions where noted by a boy with a sling shot in his hip pocket like a gun in a holster. A smirk lighted his face, eager to make any one who sat so straight slouch and become just another rough and tumble Newsy. Sacha shot him a look from the corner of her eye, she had heard of this Newsy as well. Spot was his name, a strange name, more of a dog's name than a name for the well known, shameless, leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. The glare she tossed at him caused her brow to crinkle and she rung her small hands together.  
  
"Hey Mousy." Spot spoke in a low voice, not wanting to shout thinking someone so small would surly faint from to loud a sound. He moved his chair over to her, scraping it across the floor ungracefully. He had a grin on his face and despite his slight frame he was so tall in comparison to Sacha that if she stood on her toes she was sure she would barely reach his shoulder. "What place ya come from?" He asked in his crud English, Sacha cringed.  
  
In pride she refused to turn her ace to his, "Where do you think?" she answered him coolly, a little child with sarcasm in her voice. Spot blinked. "And don't call me mousy…" She added sullenly, frowning in distaste.  
  
His grin seemed to tease her, "Wha's 'a pretty little Gurl like ya' doin' 'ere? An' dressed like a boy for that madder?" His accent was horrible, but Sacha could not hold it against him or any of the other Newsies for that matter. They had many wondrous tricks she would die to learn. But he could hold one thing against him. He seemed to measuring up, testing her, seeing if she would be a good asset, a valuable ally, or if he could use her to his advantage. She did not like this idea; she did not want to be used for any thing. Especially by some boy known for doing stupid things.  
  
"Stop breathing down my neck, you're giving me the willies!" Sacha said loudly, attempting to push him away from her. Spot was caught unawares and her push almost unseated him. But she was such a slight thing that he easily recovered, grabbing her wrists with his big hands. A few Newsies turned to see what was the commotion only to shrug it off without even really seeing what was going on. Spot looked down at her; warning flashed threw his blue eyes.  
  
"Ya' shuoldn' be pushin' people so fast… they might be tryin' to help ya'." He told her sternly, like a father from Brooklyn his rough hands tightened around her wrists. Sacha was frozen in something not unlike fear. Her muscles felt suddenly very tight and she felt as if she had forgotten to breathe. A moment passed in apprehension as those around them chattered on. Spot sighed suddenly, tossing her hands at her lap. "Your such'a 'elpless 'ittle mouse ain't 'cha" He laughed abruptly, throwing back his head and leaning back in his chair. Within moments he was in busy discussion with some other Newsie and completely forgot about the existence of Sacha.  
  
  
  
Authors notes~~~ Pleaseeeeeee Review…. I know you probably dislike it but pleaseeeeeee review! And don't 'cha just love my little Sacha with her fetish for good grammar and good accents? *grin* 


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